


to reign in heaven

by Coordinator



Category: Lobotomy Corporation (Video Game), Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Survivor 2
Genre: Gen, Let's survive., Who knows who might show up?!, may ft. nocturne from the dante series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:36:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22760335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coordinator/pseuds/Coordinator
Summary: One thousand times, the world has been reborn.One thousand times, the world has been destroyed.A new world continues, full of flaws and beauty; soon to fall prey to the eternal cycle.In this world, the dreams of a single fool reach greedily towards heaven - asking for salvation, or vengeance.What a terrible world; what a beautiful world.Let's survive.
Kudos: 5





	1. a [first] step forward into terror (i.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wow!  
> like, after saving the world kindasorta twice, you ended up having to do it a third time?  
> that rilly, rilly sux! :-(  
> but, i totes beelieve in you guys!  
> third time's the charm!

Imagine a man, slumped over a strangely shaped stone.  
The man trembles; he is in pain, and has given up.  
Grooves on the stone read like braille, or are shaped as sharp indentations, desperate for blood.  
No logic or science the man has found have been able to determine their pattern, for there is no pattern, for there is no law.  
  
A figure, a pathetic man, cries.  
His tears, powerless, strike old stone.  
  
_It begins to spin.  
  
_Crying turns into howls of horrible, distorted, _victorious_ laughter.  
Never would he have wasted time on this pursuit by himself, but it was never for his sake in the first place.  
_The world **turns,**_ _too.  
  
_Finally, with this power...  
All of it can be set _right._

* * *

  
"... 'mon, Hiiiibiki. Don't just leave me hanging, dude? Pick one! If you don't, I'll have both!"  
  
"Hey. Morning Daichi."  
  
"Guh, you were awake the whole time? Don't do that to a guy, sheesh. Anyway, take a look! Two hot babes, two different magazines - "  
  
"Two Daichis? Hmn..."  
  
Rubbing blurrily at his eyes, Hibiki tried to adjust the uncomfortable school chair, failed to achieve maximum comfort, and reclined in it, anyway.  
Daichi was frowning, and sweating a bit.  
  
"Hibiki, man, don't treat my hard work as a joke. I bled out for these mags!"  
  
"You did? Poor Daichi."  
  
"O, okay, I didn't bleed out, exactly, _but_ , there was a long line, I had to choose between getting melon bread or magazines, there was a - "  
  
"Daichi... Hibiki!"  
  
"Io is here. How's it hanging, Io?"  
  
"Mmn... Is that slang? It's 'hanging' high, I guess?"  
  
"Yahoo, Io is here! Oh wait, craaaap - "  
  
Io joined the two of them, patently ignoring Daichi as smoothly as Hibiki did, as their friend clumsily tried to hide gravure magazines, fumbled them to the floor, tried to pick them up, and...  
Staring at Hibiki, Io bit her lip.  
  
"Were you sleeping in class, again?"  
  
"Just dreaming, thinking about two Daichis... It was neat."  
  
"Kuze! _Why?!_ "  
  
"'Cause double the Daichi, double the fun."  
  
"R-really - "  
  
Daichi squeaked, before tripping over an untied shoelace.  
Io shot Hibiki a patient stare; on impulse, each of them reached out a hand, and helped their friend to his feet.  
He was nervously laughing, and scratching the back of his neck.  
  
"Man, ah, geeze... I'm really klutzin' it up, today. Oh, but hey, Io?! Did you bring anything good with you?"  
  
"I... Already ate lunch, if that's what you're asking. Sorry..."  
  
"You should stand up to him. No feeding Daichi after midnight."  
  
"But, it - it isn't midnight?"  
  
"Somewhere, it is."  
  
Neither Io or Daichi could fully claim to pierce his mind perfectly, but that was why Hibiki was their friend.  
Well - that, and... Other reasons -  
Blushing, Io pulled out a small lunchbox. It was not exceptionally cute, but Daichi eyed it with unfathomable hope.  
  
Of course, she really had eaten lunch already, but...  
  
"Wagashi?! You're the _best_ Io... I'm gonna thank you for a thousand years!"  
  
"Don't thank me. It's not like I made any of it."  
  
Io pouted briefly, her thin eyebrows creasing against her forehead.  
She'd only bought what was on sale... Since her parents had given her a small raise, it was fine, right...  
And now _Daichi_ was wolfing it down, that hadn't been...  
  
"Yo. Io. That was really cool of you. I'll treat both of you later.  
  
"T, th, thanks..."  
  
"ME TOO!?"  
  
"Well, yeah..."  
  
Hibiki shrugged and lay even further back in his chair; it creaked threateningly, but didn't break.  
Outside, the sky was a heavenly blue, pale and full of promise.  
Despite wanting to ditch, it was important to study hard, probably...  
  
"Mmn. Hibiki..."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"It's probably nothing, but you - look really pensive?"  
  
"Just thinking about the Rabbit. It was such a great scooter model. And they go for so much, you know? You'd have to be loaded to get one that and keep it up to date."  
  
Hibiki sighed, and stretched.  
Io hid her confusion _masterfully._ She truly cared for him, but, this guy...  
  
"And it would be cool to cruise with you two around town. I was thinking of going back to sleep."  
  
" _Dude!_ "  
  
Managed Daichi, having eaten the entirety of Io's hard-bought wagashi.  
Wiping fragments of sakura mochi off of his face, he tried to look cool, or paternal... Paternally cool, he seemed to think.  
(He wasn't.)  
  
"I'm the only guy with a license, and who'd waste money on a vanity piece like that? They'd have to be loaded already, right? Back me up, Io!"  
  
"Actually... I kind of see the appeal. Old-fashioned things are nice, but, I do also see where you're coming from..."  
  
"For some reason, I feel like you're hiding your true opinion. Io... Speak... Freely..."  
  
" _Don't tease me!_ "  
  
Io said, not entirely hating Hibiki's sad attempt at what he figured a wizened old fortune-teller's voice.  
Crossing her arms, she tilted her head to the side - lost in thought.  
  
"W, well... I think I'd... Probably get a motorcycle."  
  
"No _way._ I can't see that, Io. You're killing me..."  
  
"Don't die, Diechi... Daichi, oh... Er..."  
  
"A motorcycle? Cool. But it's not a Rabbit, so, that's a docked point."  
  
"Points, motorcycles... Stop, please..."  
  
"Hey, I'm fed up, here. You guys wanna go ditch?"  
  
It was the devil's offer; Hibiki got perfectly middling grades and held them to his heart with the utter confidence of a dying man.  
And Daichi's grades were worse, while Io - all those nights in cram school may, or may not, have helped...  
The three of them exchanged glances.

* * *

"All I'm saying,"  
  
Daichi begin, walking the railroad tracks without a care in the world.  
  
"Is that you can't expect New Actionman to have the same rocketpunch as Neo Actionman. Like, sure, Neo Actionman is the golden standard, but who even likes rocketpunches anymore..."  
  
Pursing her lips tightly in a little pout, Io angrily kicked up some leaves.  
  
"Oh, shit, Io - "  
  
"Rocketpunches are great. I mean... I... Think about it, aren't they kind of classic. P... Pow. Rocketpunch."  
  
(She very tinily punched forward, punctuating a point.)  
  
Daichi died a little, and would've fallen back into autumnal leaves if Hibiki hadn't slid behind him like a ghost, and braced his shoulders.  
Easing Daichi back into a standing position, Hibiki ' _hrmned'_ quietly to himself, before interpolating himself between his friends.  
With a hand on either shoulder, he seemed pretty at ease with himself, and the world.  
  
"Let's not fight over something so important. There's room in the world for both New Actionman, Neo Actionman, and even Actionman Dark."  
  
Both of his friends glared at him, and spoke at once.  
  
"S, stop joking... Actionman Dark is so - unpleasant..."  
  
" _Dude,_ Actionman Dark is like the worst part of the entire Actionman franchise. The metal transformation is like, some weird pervy shit, man - "  
  
Having restored the balance in his own way, Hibiki felt at peace.  
Their 'anger' could be directed at him, as long as they liked.  
Sky was still blue and peaceful.  
Felt like the sort of day that could - go on, forever...  
  
_brrrr-ng, brrr-ng_  
  
Popping his phone open, Hibiki nodded, muttered a few words while Io and Daichi tried to listen in, and shut it.  
Hibiki smiled a bit, his blue eyes somehow managing the impossible of being dim, and yet impossibly bright.  
  
"That was Hotsuin. She wants to go catch a movie. I said it was impossible unless the stars aligned. They aligned..."  
  
"O, oh... Miyako, huh... I still can't tell what kind of movies she likes?"  
  
"Me neither. That's why I suggested we watch Actionman Dark, instead."  
  
After Daichi had quit fake-pummelling Hibiki, who had quit fake-dodging, the three of them put their heads together, lost in thought.  
Despite ostensibly having three minds between them...  
Leaves trembled past, and Io sighed, her shoulders slumped.  
  
"Sorry... Miyako. Maybe she'll choose something good?"  
  
"As long as it's not horror. I still remember that one time, I caught this re-dubbed ripoff movie with a crazy twist ending, it left me scarred and crying, I nearly - er, you know. But are we going? Hibiki?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
With a calm smile, Hibiki resumed his natural spot in-between the two of them.  
Miyako... It'd been awhile since they'd seen one another. They'd been - pals, since... Childhood?  
Right?  
  
Something tugged at the back of his mind.  
_Something terribly unpleasant._  
  
Memories flooded forward, and the ground shuddered;  
leaves rolled by as if the breeze were infinitely stronger than it was, and the sky split open.  
  
Blue eyes cast upwards into a greenish mess that had once been the sky, Hibiki sighed;  
and three phones rang, at once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to gift this as 'blame keizh' because keizh is an incredible writer and we encourage each other's potential, but I actually am not a big fan of even jokes like that because subtlety is dead. And rather than gifting them this, instead let me give them and you the real gift - go check out keizh. I'll wait. Oh, you're back already?!.. Well...
> 
> Expect major canon divergence, I'm going to do as I please. Yes, I did reference 'friends found in flowers.' No, it's not related, probably. You can't stop me. This may seem like a pure DeSu2 fic right now, but it's not. I have no idea when or where it's going, save the ending (I always write the ending first). But I know what I want to do, and how I'm going to do it... Muahahaha. Ha. Will all your favourite characters be present? Naturally. That said, chapters may not be _fluid_ continuations of one another; there may be 'gaps' in the story, as I want you to fill in certain blanks yourselves. Specifically, certain things left unsaid, little bits of downtime...
> 
> Treat this as a bootleg LP of an unfinished game not in your native tongue, and you'll do fine.  
> Oh, uhmn... This is _still_ self-indulgent, isn't it?  
> So terribly sorry.  
> (I'm never sorry.)
> 
> Have fun, and have a nice wheeeee!
> 
> (Butler Tico will appear, too. Both Tico are valid. Let's appreciate Tico.)


	2. a [first] step forward into terror (ii.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good afternoon.
> 
> It appears we meet again?  
> Though unfortunate, I'm glad to see you well.  
> For today's news, it appears that the stars have simply ceased to exist.  
> What an unexpected turn of events; but I have faith you will find a solution.
> 
> Naturally, we will continue to assist you for as long as it remains possible.  
> In this world, and the next, havE a nICE daY

"Da-de-de-dum, just riding on my bicycle... Started a diet, headed to the diet, same thing~"  
  
He'd never expected the whole bicycle courier thing to pan out.  
It sounded like something straight from the pages of a tabloid!  
Bicycle courier Joe, tomorrow's Joe... Aim for the ace, no, that was something else entirely...  
  
"De-de-de-da, parking the... No parking, er... Heh."  
  
It really wasn't the job itself, however, but a new and lucrative contractor.  
Some government science organisation loved having their stuff delivered sub-rosa, or in his case, _sub-joe-sa!_  
Which was nice, because he didn't like getting too attached to anything, anyhow. He'd already had to reign in his spending habits a bit, for _her_ sake.  
More friends, he'd throw away more funds, it'd be tragic!  
  
Adjusting his cap, Joe found a place to park his bike. He didn't lock it; if someone took it, they probably really needed a bike, right?  
Plus, it was old. An old bike... Like a forgotten soldier...  
  
He wanted to knock on the main doors. The doors to the diet building.  
He resisted. (Somehow.)  
  
The sub-building containing the entrance was located in an obviously more modern addition.  
And there was no point knocking on the doors there, either, so he didn't. (Though he still wanted to.)  
  
"He~llo, it's Joe!"  
  
Several clerks glanced his way, but paid no attention to him. Which was cool, being in service was rough.  
Uh, but let's see, who was it he was supposed to give this top-secret package to, today...  
  
"Akie. You made it in one piece?"  
  
"Sure did Co. Sako!"  
  
"It's not Co, I'm afraid."  
  
"Lieu... Tenant?"  
  
"No."  
  
For some reason, his contact put up with his act from day one; so in return, Joe had decided to cut it a little shorter when they met.  
She was apparently in charge here, besides some enigmatic chief that he'd never seen.  
  
Makoto smiled as she took the package, inspecting it gingerly.  
Her smile thinned, a bit.  
  
"Odd... I wonder if the supplier is in trouble..?"  
  
"Not what you expected?"  
  
"Perhaps."  
  
It wasn't right for a mere courier to ask questions, but he'd been curious ever since those JPS weather balloons went up.  
What were they testing for? Air salinity? Was that a thing, possibly...  
  
"Even still, you've delivered it as promised. I cannot fault you for the mistakes of others."  
  
Her lips pursed, Makoto tapped at the ceramic armour plating at her side.  
Armour plating, huh... Was that standard office gear? And who were JPS, really? SDF? NHK? He didn't know, but he _really_ was curious -   
  
"But unfortunately, this'll have to be your last run. The Chief wants us to rely entirely on our own production lines."  
  
"O-ho!~ Autarky, huh? I read about that, once!"  
  
"... Truly? Not bad, Akie. Still, I - "  
  
"Makoto, the Chief wants to see you. He's exhausting as ever, so-ho? Oh, it's Joe!~"  
  
Colonel-Lieutenant Sako shut her eyes; whether she was happy or sad, it was truly a mystery.  
It might well have been that two powerful forces had collided, and she needed to retreat to safer, more sardonic grounds; but as a blonde doctor flounced towards them, Makoto mumbled a farewell, gave a sharp salute, before wheeling on her feet and leaving.  
  
"Doc Yanagiya, it's always a pleasure! What can this humble bicycle guy do for you?"  
  
Naturally, the two of them got on pretty well. Well, he was _pretty_ sure that Makoto got on well with Otome, too, but that sometimes it all got a bit much to deal with?  
He was sorry about that; and he always meant to tone it down a bit when the good doctor came around, but, you know, things just happened -   
  
She laughed, and hid it behind her hand.  
  
"You can't do anything for me, sorry... I'm on a break right now. My niece - well, cousin - called, and needs somebody to pick her up. Thankfully, our research department is fine and fully staffed with even only one member, so..."  
  
"Woah, no kidding? They must be a machine!"  
  
"Far better than that. She's a jewel - anyway, I'll see you out!~"  
  
Joe _had_ noticed this, though.  
Not just himself, but anyone who brought anything to JPS got 'shown out.' By a rotating, generally polite staff or servicemember.  
He didn't mind; nothing was his business, and business was booming, after all.  
  
The mystery, though... It was like the seventh mystery of a really interesting school that he'd never visited! He needed to - oh, damn, he needed to text the GF -   
  
"Sure, sure, though I've gotta - just a minute..."  
  
Otome tittered, but held back something that might have teased him a bit, behind an incredibly feline smile.  
After he was done sending a message, they strode out, Joe knowing better than to light a cigarette in the presence of the good doctor.  
  
"So, how's your niece?"  
  
"Good! She's been drawing all sorts of _monster_ comics, recently. They're so cute! Any chance you'd like to see one..?"  
  
"Haha, nope. This guy, right here, hates horror! But I'm glad to hear it, y'know..."  
  
Their conversation was even-keeled and peaceful, a nothing conversation perfectly suited to soft days without worry.  
Neither noticed the first shocks, or the slowly greening sky, above...

* * *

The room is dimly lit, and filled with the cold thrum of electricity.  
It is a tomb as much as anything else, and most people would find no comfort in it.  
Save one, perhaps two.  
  
"Oh. Sakocchi. Knock."  
  
"I, I knocked."  
  
"Your barbarous perversions win out again, I guess. I didn't hear."  
  
"Barbarous - nng. You're impossible to deal with..."  
  
"And yet you're here. Get tired out by another delivery drone?"  
  
"..."  
  
Makoto's silence an answer enough, Fumi's attention drifts back to simulation #5. It's pretty interesting; the pattern of magnetite production in human children, observed through the lifecycles of roughly one-hundred sample families.  
The data they've gained from it is all useless, though. She's felt increasingly that it's all useless, of course. The Chief is some government stooge, a LDP hack who lost an election and got parachuted into retirement to protect his honour, or some bullshit like that. A bla-bla-yesman.   
  
She's silent, and waits for the sound of speech.  
  
"That... Data, looks... Really interesting..."  
  
"You suck at openers."  
  
"I don't! You're just impossible!"  
  
"Said that already; take a seat."  
  
"Well, I will. Thanks."  
  
Against the gentle thrum of electricity, a seat is drawn close; Fumi smiles, just a bit.  
  
Makoto's arms are neatly folded against her knees, and she's doing her best not to stare. Not to stare?  
 _Hmn. Something really is up._   
Sighing, and forcing herself to stare somewhere other than monitor #8 and simulation #5, Fumi stares at human eyes she knows all too well; resists the urge to stare somewhere else, again.  
  
"You're right, sort of. But it _wasn't_ the - delivery drone. We don't even use drones - "  
  
"Workers, machines, same difference."  
  
" - there's something wrong. Like the back of my head got hit by a haymaker and I fell into an open pool. Like I couldn't - sorry, this sounds..."  
  
 _"Keep going."_  
  
"Like there's a headache I keep having that just won't stop. Fumi, it's almost as if I'm stepping outside my own skin. And I feel like it's not just me; I keep talking to Otome, and Secretary Hotsuin..."  
  
"Hotsuin? The desk jockey?"  
  
"Mmn. I told you, it's stupid."  
  
"No. No such thing as a stupid question, and if it's got somebody like _you_ down, then it's pretty concerning. You've had exams? Nothing wrong? Anyone I need to destroy?"  
  
"Yes, no, no."  
  
"All right."  
  
Giving up on work (for the moment), her arms reach towards an invisible sun.  
She wants to call her family, her real family. Wouldn't mind asking some questions on how you're supposed to comfort someone you love.  
Knows they won't understand; postpones it.  
  
Makoto's expression has softened. Good. That's a start, right?  
  
Fumi clicks her tongue, shuts down the simulations, all of them.  
Nobody else comes here; nobody else cares about their work.  
And she doesn't care about it, at least not more than she cares about - stuff.  
  
One by one, all light in the room dies down.  
  
"Did you just trap me in the dark?"  
  
"Uh-huh. Scary, isn't it? Sako."  
  
"Not... Sakocchi?"  
  
"Not right now. Not particularly."  
  
Stealing a kiss is a breach of workplace rules; but she owns every camera and system in this worthless place.  
Nobody is going to know, and she wouldn't cared if they did.  
... Besides, Makoto truly seems -  
  
"Sorry, I - can't."  
  
"... That bad?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Well.  
 _Shit._  
  
That's physical healing and her attempts at comforting the spirit denied.  
What else does she have?  
Her mind whirs, like electricity, and she tries to remember what other people have said, but nothing comes to mind, and - none of it mattered, of course.  
  
Mako's hug is strong, like she is.  
Fumi thinks idly of the names of muscles, the strength of bones.  
Also, warmth. It's encouraging. She didn't need the encouragement, but...  
  
"... Thank you."  
  
"I didn't do anything."  
  
Her protests fall on deaf ears; but she _does_ understand this much.  
  
"Well, the Chief waits for no woman. I'm going to go see if the SDF needs anything else; my friends tell me that items #132,300-581 are going to be reviewed for the axe, so..."  
  
"I'm prepared. If they kick me out, I'm just gonna head over to your flat, mess up your things, and browse the net all day."  
  
"Great. I'll - look forward to that."  
  
Fumi smiles, pretends to turn away as her monitors whir back to life.  
If her eyes drift back, no problem. Watching someone in retreat is kind of excellent. All kinds of it.  
You see - little things. Secrets, she decides. Decided. What was she doing -   
  
#5 seems to have some errors. There's no way the human body can generate that much magnetite -  
  
Warning light after warning light flashes red.  
Hmn. _Hum._  
 ** _Shit._**  
  
"Sakocchi..."  
  
Her quiet, but forceful whisper reaches out for a person who is no longer present.  
Pale fingers tap quickly a secure line to the chief, who doesn't pick up.  
It's gonna be one of those days -   
  
Looking up, she almost wishes for the blue of the sky; and can't explain why, all of a sudden, a shiver falls down her spine...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't expect to get perspective's from every character for every chapter. This is - again, a bit of an odd project.  
> I do hope it satisfies.
> 
> But wait, _Secretary_ Hotsuin? And Miyako is just a gal? Uh-oh, uh-oh WHAT IS GOING ON . . .  
> Mischief.   
> Brave thineselves...


	3. a [first] step forward into terror (iii.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> no wai?!
> 
> that grim guy is just a pencil-pusher?  
> then, like, who is in charge?!  
> ono, it better not be some middlemanager type!  
> buuuuuuuut even if it is, i'm sure you guys will all fersure figure something out!  
> rilly-rilly!

It was a smoky room, filtered through the lungs of men of whom the youngest were in their middle years.  
  
Unlike the high technology one might have expected of a secret research branch, it was decidedly old-fashioned; a bunker of concrete, underneath the skull of the earth.  
A single large screen oppressed the centre of the room, and pairs of hands on hardwood were the most obvious sign that the monitor was being observed by all the occupants of the room...  
Mostly.  
  
Chief Shingo was one of the middle-aged men; owner of a proud gut, possessor of a stern face whose age spots only served to signify his rank.  
  
_"Object M1 continues to circle lazily through the sky. It seems distracted by something... Over."  
  
_The JPS helicopter squadrons policing the skies were the only aerial observers left after the initial loss of recon support.  
Various news crews had flown their private craft up to try to observe the writhing dark mesh of wiry tendrils, all burnished grey.  
But when it had opened an amber eye...  
  
"What do we do, sir? I say we retreat, and leave it until further aggression - "  
  
"Are you mad?! The state of the nation is at risk! Immediately pursue!"  
  
Lesser warriors; lesser men.  
Their noise was distracting him. He could feel a cold sweat down his spine; he wanted to drink, and wanted to be somewhere else.  
But he knew enough to show force.  
  
Slamming an arm against the table, Chief Shingo coughed, _once._ The room went silent, save for the scratching of pencil against paper.  
From one _pathetic_ excuse of a man in the corner.  
  
Growling, Shingo hoped his point was made clear; and still, the worm continued to make his 'notes.'  
  
"Our sovereign airspace is under attack, gentlemen, and it appears the SDF is useless. Therefore, it is up to us - the true defenders of this nation! - to act in this moment of crisis."  
  
A polite applause, dignified and short.  
He could feel _their_ sweat, too.  
Everyone wanted to act. They dreamt of _blood._  
  
"Strikeforce 'Nectar', fly in close. Try to get it's attention, but remain at distance to avoid it opening that 'eye.'"  
  
"Roger, Chief. Moving in to attack."  
  
The room went silent as a tomb - even that useless brat.  
Whirring, the sound of chopper blades against a solemn sky - alien and green.  
The quivering tendrils that jutted from the alien presence in the sky shook, but did not seem aware.  
  
And one by one, his men waited for his order, for _his_ command.  
  
Shingo shut his eyes, and wondered if he was the man for the job; and then he killed doubt, and gestured towards the monitor.  
He could feel the shivering mass of men around him, all of them wanting to be in his skin.  
  
But it was his moment.  
  
"Fire."  
  
Missile after missile sped from their tubes, carting with them all the payload that humanity had to offer.  
It was always funny how cartoonish, how _weak_ actual explosions seemed compared to the drama that those useless creative-types dreamt of.  
No, this was _real_ violence, _pure_ violence, eliminating a cancer that would see him, be...  
  
" _Sir, sir, every single missile hit the targ -_ "  
  
A tendril smacked carelessly into the gunship, and the roar of engines exploding was enough for him to mute the sound.  
  
**< FFF ∫ XIZ BSF ZPV BUUBDLJOH NF ∫>**  
  
Nothing matched the horrible sound that tore through the monitor, causing the speakers to emit a tinny whine as they tried to parse a sound that should not have been heard by human ears.  
One of the men to his side fell to the ground, clutching and then emptying his gut.  
  
Shingo's fist tightened, and he said nothing.  
  
"Call... Call in the Americans - "  
  
"That's madness, sir! Respectfully, the Prime Minister - "  
  
"Fine! _Call the Prime Minister!_ "  
  
"We've tried, as well as the secondary and third residences, sir, and - "  
  
"I don't care! I, call - somebody... No, wait. There's that French missile cruiser in the bay. Correct? _Force_ them to go fire at it!"  
  
"Sir, we can't - "  
  
"We have the right to, the obligation to..."  
  
A cloister of men argued, hiding their weakness behind sharp words.  
Slowly, they grew silent at the sharp shock of a single sound.  
One person, quietly snorting.  
  
Chief Shingo snorted, and walked over, his rage consuming him.  
  
Red in the face, he pulled one meaty arm back, and thrust the full weight of his fist into the brat's face. Hotsuin fell back, his clipboard falling to the ground.  
He showed no expression at all as he was struck again, and again, and the hateful dismissal - something _less_ than dismissal - in his eyes only made Shingo angrier, and he kept punching.  
Finally, his arm hurt, so he stopped.  
  
Secretary Hotsuin laughed, even still.  
  
"Do you... Really think... Anything you _wretches_... Are doing... Is going to matter..."  
  
"You useless fucking parasite. If it weren't for your family line being part of the kuge once upon a time, you'd be rotting on the streets, somewhere. Bet you wouldn't think so highly of yourself then, would you?"  
  
"And you think... _I'm_ the parasite, hahaha..."  
  
"Stop laughing, you son of a bitch. Get on your feet, and _bow._ "  
  
Yamato rose to his feet.  
_He did not bow, and Shingo struck him again._  
  
Crumpling to the floor, Yamato was silent.  
  
Shaking his wrist, Chief Shingo addressed the cowed military men around him.  
  
"Listen, everyone. We're facing an enemy that has no apparent weaknesses, and have intermittent contact with the rest of the country, let alone the world. It befalls us to defend the honour and livelihood of all the citizens of our nation. Fame and wealth will be ours if we survive; we are the unshakable foundation of a perfect country, a flawless country that will forever be unbowed - "  
  
"... Sir, this might not be the time, but... Gotou's regiment has gone awol."  
  
"Gotou, hmn. That man was always shifty. Send some men to round him up. No, send men to round up anyone who isn't loyal. For the good of the country, of course."  
  
The last bit was tacked on, quickly.  
A grim-faced subordinate responded as quickly -  
  
"For the good of the country."  
  
One by one, the men filtered out of the room, having discussed no plans, created no plans, checked on no single part of civil society, and apparently unconcerned about the obvious threat to their lives, let alone the world.  
A beaten man lay against the wall, breathing slowly, and tasting his own blood.  
  
The bruises proved he was alive. They were of no concern.  
  
It was a number he wouldn't have remembered, moments ago; but it was the number he'd never forget, no matter how long this wretched shadowplay continued.  
He typed it into his personal cell.  
And he did not pray; he had never been one to _pray._  
  
But quietly, he demanded that the recipient pick up, even if there were no chance. It rang once, and...  
  
"Hi-hi."  
  
"Kuze... On the first ring."  
  
"Of course. Wouldn't you expect that of me?"  
  
" _Naturally."  
  
_He considered his situation; no pawns, no allies... _No._ That was not true.  
He had _strong_ allies. Makoto was here. Fumi was here. Otome was here. Therefore, nothing had changed; he could count on strong people such as them.  
The rest, having no disposable pawns? That didn't matter. It only made the challenge more interesting.  
  
Coughing, Yamato managed a thin smile.  
  
"It appears it'll be a bit more difficult for me to support you, this time. I'll expect nothing but the best from you, Kuze - "  
  
_"Hey, **guys,** Yamato is saying he'll be my personal secretary!"_  
  
...  
  
This time, Yamato fell to the floor and did not make a sound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> teehehehehe
> 
> You may have noticed I also like a certain robot show, neon sign gospel story, or something like that.  
> It appears that our heroes might be a bit disjointed and lacking their usual resources for this run.  
> So let's treat it like a challenge run?!
> 
> Naturally, I know you can figure out what mysterious entity M1 is saying. Show me your strength, dear readers..!
> 
> heheheheh secretary yamato
> 
> hehehehehehehehehehe i'm such a hack


	4. a [first] step forward into terror (iv.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good afternoon, once again.
> 
> First, I must apologise on behalf of His Excellency.  
> It appears that these messages are not being transmitted correctly.  
> Therefore, we cannot accurately state if you are receiving them.  
> A thousand apologies.
> 
> Moreover, it appears that the first dangers of the day are beginning to appear.  
> Please remember that you do not need to fight every battle; only survive.  
> Do not lose hope, and be judicious in your actions.  
> We will expect the best of you - as ever.

“Jungo! Jungo! Jungojungojungowakeupwakeupwakeup - “  
  
For some people, there is a truism; no matter how many times you repeat a thing, the repetition will not add more force. This is even the case for when you add more raw force, itself – vocal or physical.  
  
The young man sleeping on a public bench facing the sea didn't budge in the slightest, even when Airi (with some degree of effort) rolled him over in place.  
It'd been luck they'd been able to meet up here, that stupid Hina had told her that a trip to the sea would help unleash her 'inner dancer', which was dumb, but dad had said it was okay, so – somehow...  
  
Somehow, she'd been wandering the beach, and of course Jungo had been drowning?! Well, not, like, literally drowning. Maybe he'd been wading, and it was too much?  
  
Whatever had been going on, for a guy who lived in Nagoya to not know how to swim, geeze..  
  
“You should thank _all_ your lucky stars I was here, Jungo!”  
  
He snored, peacefully.  
Despite having smelled a little salty, this guy sure did heal quick.  
Hiiiina probably would have been all 'good for you, that was a great thing to do!' in that stupid drawling, stupid...  
  
“Oh. Airi. Good morning.”  
  
“Good morning – whaddya mean good morning, Jungo!”  
  
“It's a good morning. I'm a little cold, though...”  
  
“For real, oh... Uhmn, you can have my coat? Just don't damage it, it's my dad's. He'd cry and stuff if I ruined it, and the last thing I need is to make his day any worse...”  
  
“Don't worry. I'm okay. Thank you for the offer, though.”  
  
She grumbled non-verbally. It was hard to be angry at Jungo when he was awake.  
He was okay. Jungo was.  
  
“Yeah, whatever.”  
  
Pulling the coat closer, she exhaled and then swatted at a strand of hair.  
She'd thought about dyeing it, recently. Hina had said – _stupid_ Hina had said that was popular, but it didn't really feel right, to her.  
  
“Airi. Are you all right?”  
  
“I'm not the one who nearly drowned?!”  
  
“Drowned? I nearly drowned..?”  
  
“Un-bel-iev-able!”  
  
Unfortunately, it was entirely believable when it came to this guy. He seemed peaceful and happy, which meant he'd be okay. Jungo was just like that; he'd get sick, shut down, and be ready to work the very next day.  
  
“Boss... Was the boss looking for me?”  
  
“She was a little worried. You never a miss a day, after all.”  
  
Jungo adjusted his hat, and frowned.  
  
“Oh. I'm very sorry... I got lost. I'll – my phone is gone. Airi. Can I use yours to call her?”  
  
“Ptsch. I already did.”  
  
“Thank you so much, Airi.”  
  
“I – yeah, it's fine. You can make me a chawanmushi for me later, all right?”  
  
“Sure. I gladly will.”  
  
Yep, yep! Peace had definitely been restored!  
This beat – dancing, then. Piano, dance, what was next – something stupid, like... Math.  
It all kinda flowed together at the end of the day. Pointless.  
  
Friends weren't pointless, though.  
They were okay.  
  
“A, anyway. Can you move? I don't need to call for help, right?”  
  
“You could help. I know you would.”  
  
“Juuuungo! I mean, can you PHYSICALLY move! Without me?”  
  
“Mmn.”  
  
He cricked his neck from side to side, stood up; winced a bit.  
She'd noticed a few old people pass by, one guy who looked a bit like a yakuza-y stevedore type, or at least the kind of guy she _imagined_ thought of himself like that.  
  
Nobody had offered to help. Which was normal, normal people stuff.  
  
Folding her arms under her chest, Airi scowled – before her face brightened, a whiplash of blooming light spreading into a broad smile.  
  
“Hey, I know! I've been working part-time, too - “  
  
“Good job.”  
  
“Yeah, it's simple for me. Thanks though. At the – the record store. 'Cause I'm so cute, people are lining up to buy records!”  
  
“Vinyl, right?”  
  
“Sometimes!”  
  
They walked down a long road, the grass yellowed but strong. Dad had said that grass was like a detective on a long stakeout; it hid in place for a bit, and people thought it was dead. But just 'cause grass wasn't green didn't mean much. So long as it swayed in the gentle breeze, it was alive...  
  
...  
  
“Hey... Airi. The sky is green.”  
  
“Yeah, that's not – that's weird.”  
  
So.  
  
In movies, there was always the flood of memories. That moment where you knew everything, who the killer was, how to defeat the bad guy. It wasn't like that; she just remembered everything, like it'd been unlocked. Like she'd been hit by a hammerblow, and the temporary wooziness had just dissolved.  
  
And she didn't feel overwhelmed or like she was gonna faint, either.  
  
No.  
The only thing Airi Ban felt was a terrible, all-consuming but _quiet_ rage.  
  
“Again, huh? Still? This is just how it's gonna be for, forever...”  
  
She didn't really care that she'd forgotten. Every day was fun with Hina and Jungo. Stupid Hina, she meant. And. And that was enough.  
  
And she didn't hate having forgotten everyone else, either. People drifting away was natural, so – the days spent together fading didn't make them less real. They'd happened, they'd mattered! Now she just remembered them, which was cool, too...  
  
But...  
  
What she hated was that happiness couldn't exist for a moment. So.  
What was it going to be _this_ time. Maybe she'd lose a limb or something? Maybe dad'd die? Ah, ha, ha. Damn. That'd be _hi_ larious.  
  
... Jungo's hand wasn't super broad or anything. He just gave her shoulder a pat.  
  
“It'll be okay. Since you're with us.”  
  
“...”  
  
Pulling her scarf up around her neck, Airi nodded.  
Maybe it was even a little gloomy, but...  
  
“Thanks. Needed that. Okay, so, where's the e-mail, the – phone, ringing... All of that crap?!”  
  
But that was the thing; they hadn't gotten a mail from the stupid death services face site. Deathbook, yeah, that's what it should be called. And she waited, irritably, charms shaking as she shook her phone.  
  
Jungo was watching patiently, but...  
  
Nothing.  
  
An unnatural, unpleasant chill stole up her spine.  
This – wasn't the same thing, was it...  
  
“Doesn't feel massive. Like a quake – “  
  
“Oh, oh! It's Hibiki! He said, mmn, that there's this huge thing over the sky... I guess it's that dark blot on the horizon, huh... Geeze... If it's that big from here, aha, ahahaha...”  
  
Normally, Hibiki would've opened a video call or something. He just kept texting, though. Really fast. Which meant he was probably more scared than he was letting on? She was good at picking up stuff like that, she thought. Still – whether it was true or not, this... Didn't feel the same...  
  
“Down there.”  
  
“Mm – what?”  
  
“The harbour.”  
  
She nearly laughed.  
A handful of sailors, stereotypical sailors, like the kind you'd read about in a seedy foreign magazine, were loitering on the docks. Huge muscles, tattoos, could've been from some island archipelago or the eastern continent, could've been from all over... White-and-blue-stripey shirts...  
  
“Are they, like, cosplayers?”  
  
“No. Airi, _look._ ”  
  
Jungo had that hyper-focused expression; her chill intensified, and she squinted, wishing she'd brought glasses.  
  
... Piled up near the sailors were several people.  
Breathing, but unconscious. Unkempt, just – on top of one another.  
Her fists tightened.  
  
“Oh, oh, fuck...”  
  
More of the sailors moved, stiffly, as if they were either drunk or slightly seizure-ridden; carrying with them the prone bodies of people. A salaryman, the yakuza-looking guy she'd seen, an old couple... Oh, oh...  
  
“We've gotta _do_ something.”  
  
“But, they're just people! I don't wanna, fight...”  
  
<And that's where you're wrong.>  
  
Her phone broadcast an amber projection; a weak 'hologram' that was somewhat trendy as a replacement for videoconferencing. The quality was piss-poor, but she could make out Yamato, nursing a nasty shiner and hunched over. He still was Yamato, though. Same old Hotsuin.  
  
“Yamato, you asshole! Are you okay?!”  
  
<Hmph. This is _nothing._ >  
  
“Please rest up. We'll need your strength.”  
  
<Unfortunately, Torii, I will not be able to help you directly – for now. I will provide fire support. Fumi has assured me that it should be simple.>  
  
“Fire support..? But, you're the Chief – no, wait, Miyako...”  
  
<Isn't, either. It appears fate has decided to try to challenge us. Arrogant of it, don't you think?>  
  
Even while clearly wounded, he had that same fearless smile. _It_ was arrogant, too, but by now – she didn't entirely hate it.  
  
“Yeah, for _sure._ Okay, uh, fire support. What the hell is going on down there?”  
  
<Those kidnappers appear to be related to our new enemy. While we organise everyone, we need intel.>  
  
“And we have to save those people.”  
  
Jungo said, firmly; and Yamato rolled his good eye, but didn't intervene.  
  
“Yeah, right. What Jungo said. But, we don't have any demons! And, I don't know, they look... Scary...”  
  
<Get as close as you can, report what you can see, and try to get back to me. I'll go silent now, to avoid broadcasting your location.>  
  
He wasted no time, and the projection cut off.  
Airi inhaled deeply, trying not to look as nervous as she felt.  
... So, here they went again...  
  
Blades of brown grass cut pas them as they carefully made their way down to the port. She counted five of the sailors by her own estimate, and as good as Jungo's vision could be, he probably wasn't the most reliable, here.  
  
So, whatever! _She'd just have to work twice as hard!_  
  
“Airi. Hold up. More, ahead.”  
  
He was right – kind of. There weren't any more sailors ahead, but... Hidden behind an almost comically _fake_ looking rock-outcropping...  
  
It took all her energy not to burst into laughter.  
  
A full-rigged sailing ship, with windy lateen sails (bet Hina didn't know THAT word, huh?!), and loaded with cargo? Like, f'real?! What even _was_ that, anyhow...  
  
The desire to laugh left as she saw body after body being dragged to the hold.  
  
But they were still alive.  
...  
  
“We got what we came here for, I'm texting Yamato.”  
  
“And, then?”  
  
_Sorry, Dad.  
Being stupid is a family tradition. _  
  
“Obvious, stupid... Jungo...”  
  
_five guys prob all v. buff  
seem to be kidnapping randos?  
no apparent pattern. sorry this is brief.  
on a sailing ship. unsure whether to pursue, gonna attempt a day raid  
  
_ Then, she sent a winky face. Perfect.  
  
“O-okay! Let's do this!”  
  


* * *

  
Almost the moment they'd tried to stealthily creep towards the boat, there was this horrible monstrous _creak,_ and all of the sailors had turned towards them. All of them, at once.  
In perfect harmony.  
  
“Shiiiiiit – “  
  
Begin Airi, cutting herself off as she fumbled and fell backwards. She'd attempted a swing with a power she no longer held, and it just – didn't matter how good her balance was, she was just a girl, right now...  
  
One of the sailors swept forward with a clumsy, almost-funny looking uppercut. It popped her jaw, and she heard a different kind of crack.  
Her vision _swam,_ fractal and rainbow like, and she stumbled further back, swaying and falling to her feet.  
  
She could taste her tongue, oh, no... Shit...  
  
“Cut that out.”  
  
It wasn't a good battle cry.  
He didn't do 'battle cries.'  
But he was _furious._  
  
Jungo's combat style was the same now as it had been then; he just slammed his arm forward, and struck as hard as he possibly could.  
  
And, to both of their surprises...  
  
_Clang.  
Ssssszt. _  
  
“Eth... Eth? Jungtho!?”  
  
“... Oh.”  
  
Jungo's fist had cut _clean through_ the sailor. Dark purple ichor, something a little like blood, swam from his rapidly wriggling fingertips, and fell to the ground. Electricity also danced along his fist, and occasionally Jungo spasmed – only just managing to jerk his hand free.  
  
_Inside_ the sailor was something else.  
Orange, darkened orange, like some old mariner's shell ornament that'd been left out to dry in the sun for ten years or more.  
  
Small, constricted pupils, cameras of red light fixated on the two of them, as long orange whisker-feelers pried the air for information.  
  
“Fth...”  
  
Airi spat out her own blood, her hatred helping pull her to her fet.  
  
“Fucking _prawns?!_ Are you _shitting_ me?!”  
  
“Is kinda – oh...”  
  
Jungo doubled over as one of the sailors (clumsily) swung a (robotic?) fist at the back of his neck. He just managed to pull away as the damaged one swung forward a pincer-waldo, which looked infinitely more sharp and dangerous than the sailors' fists.  
  
Clumsily, Jungo brandished a knife he almost never used in combat. Maybe had _never_ used.  
  
“Oh... This is bad, Airi.”  
  
“Y, yeah... I guess we need to – retreat...”  
  
But more of the sailors were crawling from the ship now, and crawling was exactly the right word to use. They looked even hokier, like they'd naturally been built to advertise some – shitty discount seafood chain, haha, they were gonna _die_ to this crap...  
  
_no way in_ _**hell**_  
  
“Right. I'm good. Jungo, you just – can you...”  
  
“Can't move. Sorry.”  
  
Shitshitshitshitshit –  
  
“Of course you can move, dummy! Please move... Move...”  
  
But even though the blow had struck his neck, Jungo's left leg kept – fidgeting. At odd angles. Like it'd been bent, even though it hadn't been touched. He smiled, as if embarrassed, as if _he_ should be apologising.  
  
She wasn't gonna let anyone die, not ever again..!

Around them, maybe ten of the service robots had gathered, some looking like the awkward sailors, others pulsing and humming and shining with fake neon light. One was even emitting static that sounded a little like an advertising jingle.  
  
Oh, mom had sung that one, once...  
  
“I'm sorry, Jungo – “  
  
She said, as _something leapt over her shoulder._  
  
A flurry of quick punches, and the damaged robot fell back.  
It didn't rise.  
  
And, as one, the robots prioritised this new threat; a short man with surprisingly grey hair, glaring as if the lot of them had done nothing more than sour his day.  
  
“You absolute _idiots._ Who goes into a fight without backup?”  
  
“Keita.”  
  
“Don't sound so excited, dumbass. And now ain't the time for a custard egg. Ban, you all right?”  
  
She had half a witty retort to her lips, but Keita had decided on ignoring it and getting back to action. Like them, he wasn't strong as they could've been, but his fighting style was _just_ enough to keep the robots in check. A few swift blows, retreat, a few swift blows, retreat, his forehead was _covered_ in sweat, retreat...  
  
Three down, and there was room to escape –  
  
Or...  
  
“JUNGO!”  
  
She shouted, knowing that one snaggle-tooth was getting in the way again.  
  
“We're stealing that stupid-ass ship! Gogogogogo!”  
  
“Okay. Boarding.”  
  
“Wait, you – shit. I'll jump it!”  
  
Keita growled, and the robots weren't aware enough to understand what was going as the anchor was loosed; but hell, she'd never steered a ship in her life, but, being born by the sea was like learning it through your blood, and anyway, Hina would've faked confidence too, so –  
  
The sea roared in protest as they robbed it of a sacrifice.  
  
As one, the robots turned to the boat; and Keita ran towards the docks with everything left in him, jumping (somewhat clumsily, compared to before) and hitting the deck with an audible _thud._  
  
“... Holy... Shit...”  
  
He muttered, and the sensation of Keita snickering was so alien she kinda loved it?!  
Managing to rein himself in, he made an incredibly rude gesture towards the silent, motionless shrimp-man-bots.  
  
“Yeah! Get wrecked, and don't ever come back!”  
  
Airi yelled, copying his gesture.  
Jungo quietly muttered something about them technically being the ones to retreat, but whatever.  
They'd done it. They'd _saved_ people.  
  
“Okay. Whew. Time out. Where are you two steering this thing?”  
  
“Uuuuh, good question. I don't feel confident taking it too far, Jungo?”  
  
“Close by. A natural harbour. We'll wait for everyone to wake up, then go to JPS.”  
  
“Yeah. Yeah, that's a good plan. I'm gonna – call my old man.”  
  
“Not possible.”  
  
Keita scowled.  
  
“One thing's the same, at least. No service outside JPS. You're lucky I was in the area, though – “  
  
“Platinum fight night, right? How'd ya do?!”  
  
Her cheeky smile brought out one of his own.  
  
“Not bad. Gotta show off a bit, busted some heads. Torii, how the hell you' know how to steer a boat?”  
  
“Oh. This is easy.”  
  
Both of them contemplated Jungo's calm and casual manner for a minute, then Airi snapped her fingers.  
  
“Right, well, we'll report on the new threat. Uh, I'll transcribe, slowly... Keita, do you know anything new? Like, uh... Didja, see Hina, anywhere...”  
  
His face fell, just a bit.  
And he hid it behind a practised look of easy anger.  
  
“Yeah, I saw 'a bit.' Let's start with how pretty much the entire SDF got wiped out – “  
  
Waves kicked back the craft, and it rocked unpleasantly.  
Belowdecks, she could hear people shaking, and coming too.  
Ahead of them, a metal craft drew parallel, broadcasting first in a language she couldn't recognise, and then again in somewhat clumsy Japanese.  
  
«Hold your positions, you, present fighter _Halgan._ Violent action ensues.»  
  
_One by one, braces of artillery lit up and the sky, so green, become muddled and orange;_

 _then, there was nothing but smoke, then  
nothing at all where there had been a dock, but  
smouldering ashes and metal. _  
  
Keita was leaning over the railings, a strange look in his eyes.  
He turned his head back, half-grinned half-sneered at them, and asked:  
  
“Say. You guys think we can take 'em?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, some action!  
> Because this is Devil Overclocked Breaker Quest 2.5, I'd like to talk a bit about some gameplay changes. Please consider this mandatory reading! There'll be a test later!..  
> Or don't, no worries, ahaha.
> 
> I really wanted to add more elements, since P2 EP is my favourite non-mainline SMT game. Uhmn, on that note... I might actually write up my weird Strange Journey spinoff after this. Since I - wasn't too fond of 'Redux.' No offence meant to those who enjoyed it, and I am thrilled it drew more attention to my personal favourite of the main games. Anyway - because I love complexity, I'd probably break up Phys into the following three elements; Strike (Melee damage, humanoid), Ranged (Ballistic damage, humanoid) and Havoc (weird, monstrous force attacks.)
> 
> Furthermore, I'd break Mystic into Mystic, Nerve, and Curse, add Light and Dark, and then add a whole _slew_ of elemental stats. Needless? Perhaps. But since we're here, please just roll your eyes and go 'oh, coordinator' when I talk about elements not present in Desu2. You can criticise me! I can take it!
> 
> Onto our first 'demon.' Mostly guests from Lobotomy Corps, who is this fine fellow?  
> That's [Machine Autonom.](https://i.imgur.com/d0E82ki.png) The Machine group is an old classic, and one that will see some use. Autonom consists of human-like sailor robots; there are also Machine Mascot and Machine Hunter-Killer, which are (essentially) palette swaps with higher stats. Uhmn, I say I crave complexity, but could it be I'm just lazy... As for the racial skill, Process grants +1 str and vit, increasing by +1 at levels 10 and 25. The next turn, the unit is fatigued, losing a mirrored amount of str and vit; for example, -3 in each at level 25.
> 
> Overdrive doubles the bonus, but not the loss. As you get better stats and build better demons, the Machine clan will be a bit less useful, but early game, the ability to freely pump stats (even more if you have a dedicated healer and spam process/overdrive every turn) could be quite useful.
> 
> A rather unpleasant enemy for a first-time group with no skills! That's unfair, isn't it? Well, but... Autonom have a movement speed of two, and lose their physical resistances when struck from the back or flanked. (This is how I'd introduce my pointless additions to the game, and encourage 'tactical thinking,' bahahah.) You aren't meant to win this map, but surely can with a bit of patience for that extra XP.
> 
> I'd like to keep the feeling of 'survival' all throughout, however, even when you're a skilled player who knows how to break the game into shards.
> 
> As for the map itself, crates and obstacles litter it, but you can use that to kite the slow-moving enemies. I might also choose this map to introduce fog of war and vision mechanics, but nobody actually likes those, so I'll relent. You _can_ use cover here, having Jungo or Airi hide behind objects as tall as they are to gain a slight reduction to damage, though they can't initiate attacks like that.
> 
> Well, I'm rambling, but - I like the idea of maps were you don't get to control your full party, or are forced into a certain setup. I might be the only one.  
> Please look forward to it next time, as well.


End file.
